Life may be simple, but it ain't easy
by melles
Summary: After Neal gets injured, Peter is mad at him - and reveals something from his own past.


A/N: There it goes...my first "White Collar" fan fic! First, and most important, I want to thank Rainey13 for her amazing help with this one. She made sure that the story makes sense and helped me more than once so that I could portray the characters correctly. (I'm sorry for all the wrong spellings and grammar, though). You did a fantastic job! Thank you very much.

That said, please be polite. I'm still somewhat new to this wonderful TV-show, but I already have a crush for Neal and Peter. They rock!

Please R & R !

**White Collar**

Life may be simple, but it ain't easy

„Meet me down at the car in 10," Peter said expressionless, as he walked by the desk where Neal sat and was making a phone call.

Neal laid a hand on the receiver of the telephone and looked at the back of Peter quizzically. "Excuse me?" He got no response and watched Peter disappear out of sight. He sighed. Lately Peter seemed distracted and his mood had changed a lot. So it was obvious that Peter still was somewhat pissed about the latest case they had been working on. But he already had said how sorry he was. More than once. Still, Peter refused to speak with him more than necessary. Did he miss something else? Neal tried to remember if the two of them had an assignment, but didn't come up with a solution. Quickly shaking his head, Neal turned his attention back to his caller. "I'll call ya back," he said and hung up. With his right hand he grabbed his hat, just to be reminded by a sharp pain from his left side to avoid fast moves. It was still sore and the cuts on his forehead itched, but Neal wasn't about to complain. A slight smile appeared on his face as he thought about last week, where he had to flee through a closed window. The landing had been hard and painful, resulting in a few minor cuts in his face and two bruised ribs. But boy, it had been fun doing this James Bond thing! But Peter hadn't been pleased at all, he had even yelled at him. Things had gone downhill since then. Clearly he had not forgotten about their argument of the previous week. Not wanting another yell in his direction, Neal put on his hat and took the same way Peter had used just moments before.

As he approached the Ford, he could see Peter already giving instructions to the rest of the team. "Thanks for waiting," he said and earned an angry look from Peter. Neal decided to stay silent for the moment, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. But being Neal Caffrey, this task was broken only seconds later, when he asked: "Care to explain your master plan to me, too? Or should I just take an educated guess?" Something just wasn't right, but he couldn't put a finger on it and that bothered him the most.

"Remember the meeting with Max Tyler scheduled next week?" Peter asked him.

"Sure I do. I set the meeting up by myself. Maybe YOU remember that," Neal answered and couldn't hide his slight annoyance, but still he didn't get the point. His forehead crinkled, as he tried to figure out what was going on. He looked at the others, but they seemed as clueless as himself.

Ignoring the flippant tone of the former con-man, Peter just said, "Change of the plan. I got a phone call. It's going to be now."

"Now as in...now?" Neal wanted to know. "That's a bit tricky. Because right now...we're not at the meeting point, in case you haven't noticed Peter."

Sometimes this young fellow just got to his nerves. He could feel a headache coming up. In order to stay calm, Peter took a deep breath before he answered. "Okay, just to please you, Neal. The meeting is going to take place in about 15 minutes. Better?"

Seeing that reaction, Neal knew better than to make another reply, so he simply nodded. "Yup."

Peter looked at the team. "Everyone ready? Then let's go." He watched as another car stopped and then turned to Jones and Neal. "You." He spoke to Neal. "In the surveillance truck and get wired. We're running late." He pointed at the truck standing a few meters away.

"Well, if I would have been informed in time...," Neal started but stopped as he saw the dark expression on Peter's face. His gut feeling told him to be aware of his words, but he couldn't hold back his tongue. "Are we still holding on to the OLD plan or did that change as well? If so, it would be nice to..."

"Stop rambling and get ready," Peter held up his index finger to quiet his partner. "Same plan just a new date. That is, if we're going to make it there on time. Otherwise there will no plan, no meeting and no pickup."

Although he didn't like how the situation had changed, Neal agreed and climbed into the truck. Jones was right behind him. "Jeez, what's up with him lately?" he asked no one in particular as the door were closed and he was out of reach for Peter.

"Don't know for sure, but maybe it's because of your little stunt show last week, Colt Seavers," Jones answered nonchalantly. "Better watch your tongue." But speaking to Neal, Jones knew that his words were somewhat to no avail.

One hour later, Peter anxiously listened to Neal's voice coming from the hidden microphone behind the tie. He shook his head, while he thought of a plan to end this operation as fast as possible. Because he feared that Neal's cover could be blown. "Stop playing games Neal!" he spoke into the radio.

"I have it all under control," Neal answered in a hushed tone. Apparently he was alone; otherwise it wouldn't have been wise to say that out aloud. And just as to confirm Peter's assumption, he added: "He went to the other room. Now, if I just can get a glimpse of what's in that vault, we..."

"Don't pull any stunts!" Peter objected. "Just do as we planned..." He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a "Uh-uh. Houston, we've got a problem!" He could feel all of his blood draining from his face and he was sure his heart was skipping a beat. "Not again!" he moaned as he hid his face in his hands for a few seconds. When he regained his composure, he listened carefully to his headset, but all he heard was a muffled sound. "Neal?"

They all went silent inside the truck to get a better image of what was going on inside the building across the street, but it was clear that they heard the hard breathing and footsteps of someone being chased. And with every second wasted, Peter grew more and more worried about the welfare of Neal. "Let's get into the house! Hurry up!" he shouted commands to his colleagues, hopped out of the truck and ran towards the front door. "NEAL? Where are you? Answer me!" Peter tried to get that important information while he slammed the door open. Breathlessly he stood in the hallway and looked up. This house was far too big to search all of the floors. His mind raced, so did his heart. And then he heard Neal's voice.

"...rooftop...no way out..."

Peter held up a hand to get the attention of his colleagues. "You are on the rooftop?" he asked to be sure, listened then nodded. "We have to get up! NOW!"

This hadn't quite worked out as planned. That much was sure. Neal looked around, fear in his eyes. His chasers weren't anywhere to be seen, but he doubted that they just gave up. Carefully he stepped towards the balcony and glanced down at the street. The building wasn't that high, only 5 stories, but still...the only way out of here was...down. He needed a plan. Fast. Very fast.

His heart was beating fast and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears, but Peter showed no sign of stress to his colleagues. He told himself to be calm in order to make the right decisions. With fast steps he took the stairs up, sweat was forming on his forehead. As he reached the 5th floor, he stopped and tried to control his breathing. "Neal," he gasped. "...almost there...stay put..." He needed to perform more body exercises he thought dryly. This guy was bringing him increasingly to his physical limits. Then he drew his weapon, steadied himself and made his way to the emergency door.

Always looking for a spot to hide, Neal slowly tried to stay put, but he feared if he stayed too long in one spot, his hideout wasn't safe enough. He needed to get closer to the exit door opposite to those he bolted from. It was still a few feet away and at least one bad guy was after him. The second one seemed to consist only of muscles and maybe luck was on Neal's side and that guy had died of a sudden heart attack on the way up. Too much of those anabolic pills weren't good at all. "...we're at the door...north side," he heard Peter say and he smiled at the sound of the dark and out of breath voice of his friend. The cavalry was on its way!

After checking with Jones for his backup, Peter nodded at him and pushed himself through the door. Being a trained agent, he let his eyes wander around to get as much information about his surroundings. The roof was approximately 30 by 20 feet, with two separate covered exit doors, one on the south side and the other on the north side where he was standing. On the west side there was nothing but the street and on the east side he could see a backyard. There were also some pieces of junk around and a wooden crate. Presumably used for pigeons once, now abandoned. He hoped that Neal would use one of those for cover. He squinted at the sunlight for a moment and then tried to find Neal. But he wasn't in sight and so Peter carefully stepped around the corner, Jones always covering his back. After a few seconds he motioned without speaking to Jones to split up. He would take the right side; Jones would be left of him. Nodding in agreement, the other agent silently sneaked away.

The time seemed to expand and Neal peeked around the corner and his heart jumped, as he spotted Peter. Careful not to make a sound, he rose and ran ducked towards him.

In the corner of his eye, Peter noticed movement and raised his gun. "FBI!" he shouted, but the man kept coming towards him. "Freeze!"

"Peter!" Neal called, not aware of his surroundings and grabbed his hat to put it on again. He just wanted this to end.

"I said: FREEZE!" Once again, the man seemed to ignore his command. Instead he raised a hand. Within seconds Peter had to make a decision. So he aimed and fired.

Neal went down almost instantly and let out a moan, as he touched the ground trying to catch his fall with one hand. His other hand went to his left side. It was burning like hell.

"One down," Peter noted grimly. He never liked firing his gun, but if necessary he wouldn't hesitate to use it in order to save a life.

"_What the hell!"_ Neal thought and sucked in the air, trying to get fresh air into his lungs as he knelt. _"I understand that he's still mad, but shooting at me?"_ At the sound of a muffled cry he jumped and saw dark figure behind him hit the ground. Now he understood. Peter had not tried to kill him, but shot the man who had been behind his back! Regardless of what had happened just moments ago, Neal had to breathe in deeply a few times before he regained his composure. Still, his knees kept trembling as he stood up. "Phew, that was close," he said quietly as he tried to brush off some dirt from his clothes. The success of his actions was questionable and so he shrugged with his shoulders and made his way to his former chaser who now lay on the floor, holding his bleeding thigh. Neal stood next to him and kicked away the gun. After that he waved his okay to Peter.

Relieved to see Neal unharmed, Peter lowered his gun and let out a sigh. Right now he seriously considered keeping Neal under house arrest for at least four weeks. Maybe even for the rest of his sentence.

"Jones, there was a second man," Neal informed his colleague. "I think he's still somewhere in the stairwell."

With a nod Jones informed the others while he rushed towards them and handcuffed the man.

"Neal? Can I talk to you for a minute?" Peter asked exceptionally quiet for this situation. This was a bad thing, because he was brooding inside.

"Sure," Neal answered, aware of the danger emanating from Peter. He also knew that he made a mistake and that he owed his partner an apology. "Listen, I…I…it was my fault," he started, his shoulders hanging.

Silently the FBI agent took the ex con by the arm, to move him away from Jones. "Which part of 'Don't pull any stunts!' didn't you get?" It took all of his willpower to maintain calm. The muscles of his jar were working hard. "How many times do I have to tell you to work as I told you? Because of your childish behavior you put all of us in danger!" Angrily he threw up his hands in mock surrender - "I should have known."

It was quite obvious for Neal that Peter was letting the previous incident made him jump on conclusions. The words from Peter were harsh, but true. So Neal tried to explain. "It's not that I looked forward to get confronted with a gun aimed at my head…"

"So why did you do this?"

"I thought I could get the information much quicker." He flashed a smile, hoping to get some mercy at least. As usual, he tried to solve the serious situation with his youthful charm. It worked out most of the time, well, except with Peter. Neal had to admit, that the charm thing didn't work on his angry partner at all. Seeing the squinted eyes of his counterpart, he bit his lower lip. "I didn't expect his assistant stepping in the room. He wasn't supposed to come back so soon."

"And that's exactly why you should stick to the plan!" Peter was pissed. "Ever thought of getting killed?"

Before Neal could reply, he heard Jones yell in the background and then everything started to move like slow motion. He saw Peter looking at the location Jones was pointing to. He saw Peter raising his gun once more. He saw him shouting, but he couldn't hear the words. Then he felt a burning sensation in his left shoulder and the pain was so overwhelming that he went down to his knees. He felt his back making contact with the hard and cold ground. The sun blinded him, bringing tears to his eyes. Peter appeared in his field of view, looking terrified. The pain got worse, it was difficult to breathe because something was pressing against his chest. Although he tried he couldn't speak, nor could he make out every word Peter was saying to him. He only heard bits and pieces.

"...c'mon, buddy...breathe...ambulance...on its way...breathe..."

He wasn't entirely sure, but this could be his end. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Everything went black.

5 days later...

It hadn't been his end. He hadn't died on the rooftop. But now he was certain he was living in hell. Peter had successfully tried to avoid him, at least while he was in the hospital. El was upset about her husband's behavior and had had two or three heated conversations - the last one ending with a fight. She had come to his room at the hospital, her eyes weary, telling about the argument she earlier had had with Peter. Neal had shaken his head in defeat, not wanting to be the reason for a dispute between the couple. If Peter didn't want to see him anymore, then he had to accept this. How this would affect his future work with the FBI he couldn't tell so far. It was clear that he had made a mistake and he knew he had to pay for it. The insecurity was killing him.

Slowly he picked up his very few belongings that El had brought him within the last days and stuffed them into a duffel bag. It had taken a lot of time without the help of the nurses to slip into a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. His left arm was resting in a sling. According to the doctors he was a very lucky man. The bullet had been a through-and-through; a few inches deeper and Neal would have been dead. The problem was, Neal wasn't as happy right now as the people around him may have thought. He was alone. A few years back that wouldn't have bothered him. But since he had started to work with Peter he quickly grew into the Burke family as well as he loved being at June's. _"That's the reason why you should never ever get into any kind of relationship. The break-up is killing you,"_ Neal thought sadly as he looked up to see one of the nurses bringing him a wheelchair. Hospital policy didn't allow him just to sneak out. Right now, it didn't matter to him anyway. Heck, he wasn't even in the mood to flirt with one of the nurses, although he was sure that at least two of them had tried to.

"Are you ready, Mr. Caffrey?" The Nurse wanted to know, offering a tenderly smile.

"Yeah, let's go," he simply nodded and sat down. The doctor had told him his morning, that he was cleared to go home and since the FBI didn't send a receiving committee or something similar, they just made their way down to the exit. For a brief moment he thought about leaving his 2 mile radius, curious if Peter would show up. But that would certainly increase his problems, so he discarded his idea. His stomach growled and his shoulder hurt. To top this, rain had set in and it didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. Walking to the nearest metro station in the pouring rain would be fun. Yeah, he was a very lucky man, wasn't he?

A few minutes later they stopped near the exit. He thanked her for the ride with a half-hearted smile and slowly stood up. Just as he was about to step out of the hospital, he heard someone shouting his name.

"Neal! Wait!"

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. "Peter?"

The FBI agent approached him, his face grim. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Neal answered a bit confused. When he saw the puzzled look from Peter, he cleared his throat and added to clarify his answer, "To June." Then it dawned to him. "Y-you...bringing me back to prison?" Talking about being a very lucky man. Bullshit.

Peter let out a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. Shaking his head, he thought, "Not quite." Then he grabbed the duffel bag and just said, "Let's go." He knew his answer didn't explain very much, but he wasn't in the mood.

They drove in silence. Neal didn't dare to speak, which was unusual for him, but his welfare was literally laying in Peter's hands and he doubted that his driver was up for a nice chit-chat right now. After a few blocks Neal recognized the area they were heading to and turned to Peter. "Are you sure about that?"

"Sure about what?" Peter asked, his eyes still on the road.

"About the direction. This isn't the way to the prison." Not that he would complain, but he didn't understand what was going on.

As if he had read the thoughts of his younger companion, Peter took a deep breath before turning around to answer. "You are going to stay with us. El forced me to bring you home since June's out of town for the next 2 weeks. And just for the record – it wasn't my idea."

That answer startled him. "Excuse me?"

Although he was still a bit mad about Neal, Peter couldn't help but smile a little, as he saw the somewhat shocked face of his co-driver. "Scary thought, isn't it? Yup, you are staying with us. Not negotiable. Unless you're willing to face El..."

"But..."

"Like I said, El forced me to bring you home. And I will be damned if I go against that order." He already had had his arguments with his wife and as always...had to give in. "Sorry, if you opted for the prison. But that's how its gonna work the next time." He grinned. "At least I've heard the food's much better at the Burke residence. So it's worth a try, don't you think?"

Was he still unconscious? Or in a dream? Did he actually die at all? He nearly jumped, as he felt a hand on his right shoulder.

"Earth to Neal! Get out! We're home. El is waiting."

Neal blinked a few times, then looked to Peter who was standing next to the passengers door, holding up an umbrella. If this was a dream, it wasn't that bad at all. If only that wouldn't turn into a nightmare. Carefully he unfastened his seat-belt and got out. By the time they had reached the front door, Neal had to admit, that he was out of breath. Due to the blood loss and the injury itself, he was still weak.

"Why don't you go in? I'll get your stuff," Peter suggested and opened the door. "El, hun? We're home!" he said loudly and was greeted by a very excited Satchmo first. "Don't you dare to jump at him, you hear me?" Then he stepped inside and motioned to Neal to go on. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, you're just in time...," Elizabeth appeared on the hallway and smiled, when she saw Neal standing in front of her. "It's good to see you, Neal. How are you?" It didn't matter that she had seen him just a day before. She was concerned about his condition. He looked pale and somehow like he would pass out any minute. And he seemed like he had lost some weight, too. She laid a hand on his arm sympathetically. "Let's take a seat. Dinner's ready in a few moments."

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied quietly. He still wasn't used to the idea of staying here, especially while Peter seemed troubled having him around. Maybe he just should leave. "I don't want you to, huh, dinner?" The second she mentioned dinner, Neal could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread and immediately his stomach started to grumble. He certainly wouldn't stay overnight, but the thought of a warm meal was very tempting.

The dinner was mostly held in silence. El was doing her best to mother hen Neal, always asking him if he was okay and filling up his plate three times. Peter more than once shot an unhappy look right at El, shook his head and rolled his eyes because of the behavior of his wife, but said not much otherwise. The whole situation was kind of odd and Neal grew uncomfortable with every minute passing by. Elizabeth sensed his displeasure, but couldn't do anything. She decided to play along and then she would have a word with Peter just after dessert. For now, she didn't want to provoke things. She stood up, saying "Who's ready for some sweets?" Without waiting for a response, she took the empty plates and went to the kitchen.

Peter remained silent and played absentmindedly with his napkin.

Not wanting to spend his time alone with Peter, Neal politely grabbed his dishes with his right hand and carried them into the kitchen, where El was preparing the dessert.

"Hey, you don't have to do this," El said as she saw Neal approaching. "Peter can..."

"I doubt he will be doing any good this evening. Not with me around, anyway," Neal mumbled. "I think it's better to leave..."

"Oh no, Mister!" El objected. "You're gonna stay. I will have a word with Peter. I've already noted that he's in a foul mood, but..."

Although he didn't want to interrupt her, Neal shook his head. "Thanks for the dinner. It was delicious as always. And thanks for visiting me at the hospital. I really appreciated it." He looked back over his shoulder to see Peter still sitting at the table. "I don't want to disturb you or cause a fight. It's not," he corrected himself, "I'm not worth it."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. "Don't you ever think that! Of course you're worth it!" She let go of the cheesecake and stood in front of him, looking in those icy blue, yet sad eyes. "Peter's had a rough time the past two weeks and you know him, he's not good at explaining what's going on in that thick skull of his. He needs time to sort things out. I'm sorry that he's acting like this."

Neal thought about it for a moment. Sure, he had done his part in this. And he knew he owed his partner an apology, but that was easier said than done. Most likely because Peter refused to talk to him. He didn't know what would happen if he just left right now. On the other hand, with El on his back, maybe he would have a chance to apologize without getting killed by the hands of the fuming FBI agent. "Any suggestions how to handle him?" he asked wryly. He opened the refrigerator and since he could only use his right hand, he just took one beer bottle. "If I'm not back in, let's say 20 minutes, don't hesitate to call 911." He tried to lighten the heaviness of the situation, but didn't wait until he got an answer. He entered the living room and stopped, blinking surprised as he saw the empty chair. There was only one option so he went to the terrace door.

"It stopped raining," Neal noted the obvious and looked up at the sky after he stepped out in the backyard where Peter was standing, hands in his pockets. The air was fresh and cooling. "Needed a break?"

There was no way to escape. Literally. "Not me, but Satchmo," he said and lifted his chin to point to the direction where the yellow Labrador was sniffing around.

"It was a nice evening," Neal said, but it didn't sound sincerely. Just because he wasn't feeling welcomed at all. So he took a deep breath and turned to Peter. "Listen, let's go straight to the point. I've made a mistake and I'm truly sorry about that. If you don't want to work with me anymore, and you want to send me back to prison, then that's what it'll be. I just want you to know that I regret not listening to your orders. And I'm well aware that you risked your job because of me more than once..." He went silent as he was interrupted by Peter.

"That's not the point, Neal," he spoke to him and for the first time looked him in the eyes. "It's...much more complicated," he just said and then fell silent again.

"I've figured as much." Then he offered the beer to his companion.

Peter looked at the bottle quizzically, before taking it. "Not up for a beer yourself? Or wine?"

"Not with the pain killers," Neal declined.

"Still hurting?"

"Like hell," he admitted. "But I guess that's part of the whole 'I-did-not-listen-to-you-and-that's-the-punishment-for-it' thing."

Bending his head down, Peter sighed. He knew that he acted the wrong way, but he just wasn't ready to talk about it. But hey, would there ever be the right time? Neal deserved better than that. With his free hand he gestured towards the chairs. "You want to sit down? Need something to drink?"

"Water would just be fine, thanks," Neal answered and felt somehow relieved that Peter seemed to open up a bit.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Peter nodded and put the bottle of beer on the table before he went inside.

Elizabeth looked up when her husband entered the kitchen. She eyed him cautiously, but stayed silent. Instead she gently put a hand on his shoulder when he passed by.

Peter nodded his understanding, got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and went straight back to Neal.

"So what's the point?" It was useless to go on talking about the weather or something else, when there were so many more important things to clarify. Neal leaned back in his seat, wincing slightly and waiting for Peter to open the bottles.

"Straight forward, huh?"

"It hasn't worked your way, with all the brooding, you know," Neal answered. He lifted his bottle. "I'm just going to pretend it's a well-aged Bordeaux," he grinned slightly and took a sip.

"Maybe next time...," Peter said and took a large sip, too. With one hand he brushed over his lips, then he sat there motionless just looking to a point in front of him.

"Will there be a next time?" Neal wanted to know.

Peter didn't answer immediately. "If we can manage to handle this, yeah sure," he shrugged.

"You didn't answer my first question, though."

Again, there was a pause before Peter responded. He bent forward, with his arms resting on his thighs, the bottle of beer in one hand. "That day on the rooftop...," he began, "...when I saw you laying down, blood all over you...I...," he shook his head when the pictures were coming to his memory again, "...that was too much to bear."

Neal squinted his eyes, the darkness had already set in, as he tried to listen to every word. Yet he had the feeling that there was more to come, so he stayed silent.

It was almost as if Peter wasn't aware of Neal's presence anymore when he added, "I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I still can't. That's why I'm upset. You're my responsibility. I have to watch out for you. I'm the one making sure you aren't harmed. I should have seen it coming. I should have seen the second man. I should have reacted much sooner. Bu I didn't. I failed. Twice."

"You didn't fail," Neal objected vehemently. "I'm here. I'm fine. Yeah, well, given the circumstances that is," he added smirking and threw a quick glance at Peter who still refused to look him in the eyes. He became serious again. "According to Jones, you did quite a good job. I didn't bleed to death because you applied pressure on the wound." He waited for a few seconds. "And me jumping out of that window? All my fault. I didn't react like you told me I should..."

"Oh yeah," Peter lifted his head. "I almost forgot that. So that makes it three times I failed. I just can't stand the thought of losing you too."

"Losing me too?" he carefully probed to get more information. "What do you mean?"

"It's not what, but who I mean," Peter sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, Neal could see them glistering in the dim light. With a lump in his throat, Peter had difficulties to speak, his voice was trembling. "When you jumped out of the window, I was mad at you. But when you were shot, suddenly all became clear. I realized how I care about you. How much you mean to me. First, you were a con-man to me. Then you became a colleague. Now, you're a friend. More than that. You became family. Just like...," he trailed of, swallowing hard.

He knew he was being relentless, but Neal had to ask anyway. "Just like...who?"

"My son," he whispered.

That was new. As much as Neal was concerned, there had never been the mentioning of a son. He blinked a few times, letting the news sink in. "I never knew you have a son."

"Had," Peter corrected him, with a sad tone in his voice. "He's dead."

Now it was Neal who had to swallow hard. His voice was full of compassion. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I didn't know."

"They say time is a healer, but that's not true," he shook his head. "Maybe it gets easier, but you'll never forget. And then, one day, it hits you like a hammer. Wham! Right in your face," he waved his hand. "That's the point, Neal. I don't think I can handle this a second time." He rose and began to pace on the grass. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable at home.

Being a good observer, Neal sensed Peter's distress. "Do you want to take a walk?" Apparently his friend needed to leave his private environment. Maybe it had to do with Elizabeth's presence.

Puzzled, Peter needed a moment before he nodded. "Just a brief one around the block?" he suggested. This wasn't a bad idea, he had to admit. If a case became too complicated or whenever he needed time to think, he usually took Satchmo for a walk. It helped him to relax, to clear his mind.

"As long as you two don't run a marathon," Neal smirked at him.

After saying their good-byes to a very perplexed Elizabeth, they had not gotten very far. With each step away from the house, Peter felt his strain dropping. It became easier to breathe. A few minutes later they sat on a bench at a nearby park. Until now no one had been talking. Satchmo sat near Peter almost as if sensing the sad mood of his owner. Absentmindedly Peter scratched him behind the ears. "You know...," he began softly "...I never heard him crying, or felt his touch, never looked him in his eyes..."

Neal knew he was referring to his son. "What happened? And when?" he asked, his voice low.

"It's been...8 years," he said, sounding surprised. Had so much time passed since then? It felt like it had happened just yesterday. "Elizabeth always went to the regular examinations, everything was perfect. She was 8 months pregnant when there were complications...," Peter explained. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, felt his heart racing at the memories. "They weren't able to get a heartbeat with the ultrasound. The moment the doctors told us, we knew...that...yeah, well...there weren't any chances."

Neal looked down at the street, he felt miserable for his friend. He tried to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Angrily he shook his head because he wasn't able to comfort Peter the way it was supposed to be. Instead he laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping that would at least show Peter that he wasn't alone in his grief.

Although it was hard in the beginning, the more he talked about it, the more he felt the load taken from his shoulders. "Seeing you laying there, seeing your pain, your fear in your eyes...it was almost unbearable. When you...looked at me at the rooftop...those blue eyes of yours, full of emotion...I fell apart. Hit the wall. It was like holding him again. It almost killed me. I felt so helpless. As helpless as I was when I held my son for the first and last time in my arms." A shiver ran down his spine and he grew silent again.

"What's his name?" Neal asked.

"Timothy James," Peter said, almost in a whisper.

"TJ," Neal nodded. "A good name." Then, he added, "You would have been a fantastic father."

Again, he felt the tears burning in his eyes. "Every day I'm asking myself what it would have been like...as parents."

A little smile spread across his face when Neal nudged Peter's side, trying to cheer him a bit as he said, "Except from being a little too stern and by the book? And way too old-fashioned?" He watched him closely. "El and you would have been great parents, that I'm sure of. Loving ones. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Peter let out a sigh and relaxed a bit.

"Did you...did you talk about that with El? When she came to the hospital, she told me about the fights between the two of you. But I guess you didn't tellher what was really bothering you." Somehow he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't." It was a short answer, but yet it felt so hard to admit that he had made a mistake.

"Why? She was full of concern about you. When she visited me, she always felt sorry for you because you wouldn't come to see me. But she never got an explanation from you. That's what bothered her the most."

"I didn't want to upset her. She's been through so much, I didn't want to face her with my foolish problems."

"They aren't foolish. You're human. That means you are allowed to have feelings. Life may be simple, but it ain't easy."

Peter couldn't help but smile. "Thanks Dr. Freud."

"You're welcome. Seriously, El was shocked when you refused to visit me at all."

"That's because since...Timothy died, I'm feeling uncomfortable at hospitals. But actually I was there, you know. I stayed until the doctor told me, that you would be okay. I made sure that they treated you right, it was the least I could do. Then I went back to the bureau making plans how to catch Tyler."

"And? Did your plan work out?" Neal was secretly glad that Peter was concerned about his welfare although he hadn't admitted it at first.

"Not at all," Peter growled. "I'm back at square one."

Neal noticed that Peter didn't refer to them as the team. "Well, then we have to start at square one. We can work something out."

"I'm not sure if there's still a 'we'. I don't know how Hughes will decide. After all, I failed."

"And why? Because I messed up. He can't discipline you because of me or my faults. I'll go talk to him first thing Monday morning," Neal explained. He made a mistake. He would pay the price for it. Even if the worst case scenario would set in and they would send him back to prison. "But tell you what? First, you should go home to your wonderful wife and talk to her. She deserves to know."

For a second Neal thought that Peter would refuse because he shook his head.

"There's no way I'm coming home without you. I'm afraid to admit, but El's got a crush on you. What is it, with you and all that women? They seem to grovel with gratitude when you are around."

Laughing, Neal stood up. "Let's face it, I'm the ladies' man in this team."

"Why did I even dare to ask?" Peter sighed and rose too. Then he laid a hand on Neal's unharmed shoulder, like the younger man had done before. "Thanks for listening, Neal."

"You're welcome, Peter. It means a lot to me that you told me about TJ." He tried to stretch his back. "I think I should go to bed. I'm done."

"Well, then let's go home, kiddo," Peter smiled and couldn't resist ruffling through Neal's hair.

Admitting his defeat, Neal just grinned. He was happy that he was able to help his friend and therefore let him ruin his hairstyle. There was nothing that could ruin his charisma at all. Some women liked the tousled style even more. But he wouldn't tell Peter. "Promise me one thing," he said and looked towards him.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll talk with El." He was serious about that. Elizabeth and Peter meant a lot to him, they were as close as a family would come to him. They helped him countless times, now it was his turn to return the favor. "Don't shut her out, it's doing no good. She loves you and she will understand."

"Neal...,"

"Promise me, or I won't come with you. And I think I don't have to tell you what will happen, if you show up alone."

"Are you blackmailing me?"

"Yup."

Peter laughed, for the first time since the incident. "Once a thug, always a thug."

"Yeah, but a charming and good looking one," Neal winked.

With his head up in the air, Peter chuckled. "Alright, alright." He held out his hand. "I promise." A thought came to his mind, but he stayed silent. It would be too much to ask Neal to stay out of trouble for the rest of his life. Peter knew that wouldn't work out.

Neal took the hand. "Deal." When he started to walk, he turned to Peter. "Are you serving breakfast in bed tomorrow?"

"Dream on, buddy, dream on."

The end


End file.
